


praying for love in a lap dance

by katsukiy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, Love at First Sight, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Porn with Feelings, Stripper!Viktor, a lot of heart shaped things, braiding hair, reverse au, tipsy Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-18 16:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11878164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsukiy/pseuds/katsukiy
Summary: “Mr. Katsuki,” Viktor has a really cute nose. He’s still close, so close that Yuuri can count his freckles. Because of course he has freckles. Yuuri probably needs another drink.





	praying for love in a lap dance

 

“I don’t think I would mind too much being bitten by a zombie,” Yuuri says, twirling the straw in his drink, and Phichit just laughs loudly.

The stroboscopic lights of the club reflect on their faces in a myriad of colors, flashy and kind of annoying, the rhythmic thumping of the music matching their heartbeats.

The place is pretty, a mix of classy cabaret and disco, a stage at the center of the floor and some poles with really handsome men and women in skimpy outfits gyrating and dancing on them. It’s not even too packed. Anything would have been better than the GPF banquet, and ditching it in favour of a high class strip club is not the most adventurous thing Phichit has ever proposed to him. It was really easy to agree.

Despite not knowing a word of russian, Phichit somehow charmed his way into a good table, where the stage is close enough to see but in a secluded area where they’re less likely to be recognized as the gold and silver medalists of the Gran Prix Finals. That’s just for doubt’s sake, of course, because Yuuri thinks it’s unlikely that someone would recognize him anyway.

“That depends on how hot the zombie is,” someone murmurs, close to his ear, and Yuuri nods slowly before realizing that it’s not Phichit’s voice.

He kind of yelps when he sees that the adorably accented inflection belongs to a beautiful, beautiful stripper. He has long, flowy silver hair, and is almost naked except for a pair of very short leather shorts and incredibly high red heels. Oh, and some heart shaped, black vinyl nipple pasties. Yuuri is not okay.

“Viktor?” Phichit inquires, cheerfully, while Yuuri tries to get his salivary glands working again, and the man bobs his head up and down with a heart shaped smile “That’s me!” he confirms, and goes to stand in between their opposing seats, at the edge of the table.

Yuuri catches a glimpse of his naked ass and realizes there must be a hole in the shorts. He gulps down half of his drink in a go and averts his eyes.

“This is Yuuri,” Phichit introduces, his lips curled in a terrible smirk “The one we talked about.”

Blue eyes carve holes into his face, and Yuuri hunches his shoulders, trying to press them to the seat of his chair. Maybe the cushions will swallow his body and he won’t have to make an ass of himself in front of the prettiest man he has ever seen. Viktor bends his back to get closer to him and smiles sunnily. “Congratulations on the gold!”

Yuuri flushes. “T-Thanks?” he stammers, and glances at Phichit, who looks exactly like the cat who got the milk.

“Yuuri,” his friend starts, looking pointedly at Viktor “why don’t you and Viktor take a tour of the club together? I don’t really feel like dancing.”

Yuuri frantically looks between the almost naked adonis and Phichit, waiting for him to laugh it off and deny, but Viktor keeps smiling really big while looking at him with his head tipped a little to the side.

“I- I don’t-” Phichit arches an eyebrow, and Yuuri suddenly gets what he means. “Consider it a present for winning yet again,” he grins, “Five years now you’ve beaten me, but someday I’ll be the tallest on the podium! Now, go have fun,” Phichit pretends to wipe a tear “They grow up so fast.” Viktor politely ignores this part, and Yuuri has to finish his drink _right now_. Which he does. Very fast.

Russian drinks must be stronger than his usual, because when he gets up he almost stumbles and his vision flickers a little. Or maybe it’s just all the blood trying to rush from one end to the other of him, debating between a blush and a stiffy. Because that’s what it’s doing, and it’s giving him whiplash, and it’s all Phichit’s fault for _arranging_ something like this without asking first. Yuuri is shy, opinionated and married to the ice, which means a lot of flunked dates and solo masturbation sessions. He’s not _ready_ for gods of eros with marble cheekbones, no matter what Vogue says. He’s not.

Oblivious to his woes, Viktor catches him by the arm, with a really strong hold. Yuuri can’t help but notice that his hands are soft and his fingers are nicely shaped, the black nail polish a pretty contrast on his pale skin. Oh no.

“Follow me,” Viktor tells him, so close that he doesn’t even have to shout to be heard over the music, and then he’s already two steps ahead of him, and there’s _definitely_ a hole in his shorts. That, too, is heart shaped. Jesus Christ.

With a last look at Phichit, who waves at him and laughs at his imploring face, Yuuri goes. The heels are really high, and Viktor towers over everyone, swaying his hips as he leads him to a black door in the back of the club. There’s really not a lot of clients, but Yuuri still feels like everyone is watching him, and when the door closes behind his shoulders, he can’t help but take a shaky breath of relief.

Viktor turns towards him and his sharp smile gentles a little. “No one is gonna disturb us here,” he says. It sounds like a bad idea, mostly, but Yuuri is already sold.

He takes in the room all at once: even in the dim, almost purple light, he can see lounge chairs, a comfortable looking couch, and a glass table with an ice bucket and a bottle of… something on it. The walls are bare, painted dark, and the music from outside filters only slightly, giving an intimate touch to the atmosphere. It feels like being in a retro indie movie.

“Mr. Katsuki,” Viktor has a really cute nose. He’s still close, so close that Yuuri can count his freckles. Because of course he has freckles. Yuuri probably needs another drink. “Would you like me to pour you a glass?” Viktor asks, scarily on cue, tipping his head towards the bottle on the table.

Yuuri stills. “Um,” he says, “Okay.”

Maybe he’ll be able to drink himself unconscious and Viktor will have to cradle him into his arms and cry prettily as they bring him to the hospital. Maybe he’ll be able to avoid the lap dance that Phichit definitely paid for and Viktor won’t have to shake his ass on a really obvious boner and Yuuri won’t feel like a creep, here in Moscow, five time World Champion of figure skating and very clearly a rookie at dealing with attractive strangers with pretty blue eyes and heart shaped nipple pasties. But also very, very gay and horny, because winning a gold medal and ditching a boring banquet to visit a strip club really does things to your psyche. Especially when your best friends bulls eyes completely your tastes and hires a stripper that you’d like to climb like a tree to give you a _private tour_. Damn, Phichit.

As he mentally rambles, he can feel his legs automatically move towards the couch, where he sits heavily. It’s probably rude, but it’s that or fainting, and the choice is pretty easy to make.

Despite everything, Viktor seems pleased to see him take the reins, and it’s an instant before he’s placing a crystal flute of bubbly liquid between his fingers.

From the couch, he seems even taller. And beautiful, too, but that’s not surprising.

“Mr. Katsuki,” he purrs, and while it sounds really good, Yuuri has to put a stop to the surname calling real quick to avoid adding _old_ to the already established “creep” part.

“Please, call me Yuuri,” he almost implores, right before taking a sip of the liquid, revealing itself to be champagne. And an expensive one, at that.

Viktor curls his lips even wider. “Yuuri,” he elongates the u sound almost properly, it’s very cute. It also sends shivers down his back, but that’s another story.

Viktor’s hair touches easily the end of his spine, and it looks really soft.

“Your hair is pretty,” Yuuri says, just as Viktor questions “What do you want me to do?”

There’s a pause. Yuuri would like to be swallowed by the earth now, please and thank you.

Viktor doesn’t laugh. His blue eyes sparkle, and he asks, low and intimate “Do you want to braid it?”

Well, that’s a surprise. “Is it,” Yuuri licks his dry lips in a useless attempt to take time to _think_ , “Is it allowed?”

Now, Viktor laughs. It sounds like the chimes of a bell, even if actually they don’t even sound half as good, and Yuuri is too stunned to blush. Also, the champagne is good. He takes another gulp and realizes that he’s drank all the glass.

Viktor takes the bottle from the table and refills it readily.

“Technically, it’s not,” he winks at that, and puts back the bottle in the ice bucket “but I’m very good at keeping secrets.”

It must hurt, standing for this long in stiletto heels. Yuuri scoots a little nearer to the edge of the couch and says “Okay.”

Viktor sits really close, looking expectantly at him and then at the full glass he’s clutching. Yuuri drinks the whole thing in a breath, and Viktor takes it from him and puts it on the table. He shoots him a last smile before turning his back to him, and flicking all his hair on his shoulders in a swift movement of hands.

Yuuri is glad Viktor can’t see his fingers trembling when he buries them into the silky strands. They’re even softer that he had imagined, thin and light like a cloud. They also smell faintly of citrus.

It’s muscle memory when he parts the hair into three and start shaping the braid, really. His childhood friend Yuuko has three girls who love to get their hair played with, and he’s had to learn some tricks to survive.

The silence they share is almost comfortable, and Yuuri is grateful to have his hands occupied, because he’s starting to become antsy. At least, he’s glad he got rid of his jacket at the entrance of the club, and his shirt is light, so he’s not sweaty.

Viktor’s shoulders are relaxed as he uncovers them gradually, twisting the hair between his fingers expertly. He has freckles on them, too, and Yuuri kind of wants to kiss them, but he chastises the thought immediately.

He doesn’t know the rules, but usually you’re not allowed to _touch_. The intimacy of braiding Viktor’s long hair is already a lot, he guesses.

“Ah,” when he’s done, he breaks the silence, keeping the braid together with his fingers “I don’t have a-”

Viktor twists a little to give him his wrist, which has a black hair tie wrapped around it. Yuuri carefully slides it off, but he can’t help the shudder as his fingers caress Viktor’s delicate skin. He closes the braid tightly so that it won’t untie easily and tips his torso a little back to admire his work: it’s still long enough to touch the edge of Viktor’s shorts, and it looks really nice.

Viktor whips his head around, and his smile is blinding. “Thank you, Yuuri!” he exclaims, and twists to face him again on the couch. His nipple pasties are kind of distracting. In need of something to keep his mouth very far from where it really wants to be, Yuuri finds himself raising up to refill his glass again. He’s paying for this (or, well, Phichit is), he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make use of it properly.

He’d offer some to Viktor, but he guesses that’s not allowed, too. He sits again on the couch, but he brings both the bottle and the glass with him, this time; Viktor has an expression that says he’s amused and failing to hide it. He also looks gleeful, and it’s a good look on him.

Yuuri thinks anything would be a good look on him.

He’s sipping on his bubbles when Viktor flutters his eyelashes and asks “So, tell me about zombies,” and Yuuri is so pleasantly surprised that he forgets to be shy.

“World War Z is shit,” he starts, and Viktor whoops affirmatively. Oh, he likes this one already.

They talk about the _do_ and _don’t_ of a good zombie movie, and Viktor promises to check out some of the ones Yuuri mentioned. He’s so engrossed into explaining why it’s bad to assume rotting corpses would be able to run and have inhuman strength that he doesn’t even realise the bottle is empty until he has to put it on the floor to mimic something he can’t really remember.

At some point, Viktor pries the empty glass from his fingers, too, and stretches to put both on the table.

There’s a pleasant buzz under his skin, but Yuuri is really good with alcohol tolerance, so he knows he won’t be completely wiped out tomorrow. For once, he’s glad to have inherited something more than embarrassing dance moves from his dad.

Nevertheless, the liquid courage is there, coursing through his veins, as he can feel himself hunching closer and closer to where Viktor is, enthusiastically engaged in the conversation, the long braid swishing and bobbing with his every head movement.

Viktor’s laugh echoes in his ears, and Yuuri realizes he’s stopped talking. He gulps uselessly against the sudden dryness in his throat, and Viktor is watching him, a faint grin still on his lips.

Yuuri’s staring, he knows. He just wishes he could stop.

It’s been so, so long since they first entered this room. Phichit’s gonna have to pay an hellish fee, if it’s a service based on hours. Oh, well.

And he still hasn’t had a lap dance. He thinks he would love that a lot, now. He shifts a little in his seat, his eyes never leaving Viktor’s face, when Viktor suddenly raises from the couch.

Yuuri is too tipsy to panic, but he wouldn’t have time to anyway, because Viktor steps in front of him and “I think I would like to sit in your lap,” he says, just a little sheepishly.

 _Oh_. “I would like that, too,” Yuuri whispers.

Before he can take it back, Viktor straddles his legs and sits in his lap. His long, bare thighs spread on the dark fabric of his trousers look sinfully delicious. But, no, he has to behave.

Viktor laces his hands behind Yuuri’s neck, and Yuuri is about to ask if all this is allowed, too, but something shuts him up. He doesn’t really want to know.

When Viktor moves his hips, the leather drags against the crotch of Yuuri’s pants, and that’s really, really bad. Because he also remembers about the heart shaped hole in Viktor’s shorts, and that’s triple times bad.

Viktor’s naked torso presses hotly against his shirt, their faces inches apart, and Yuuri has to grip the couch to avoid digging his fingers into soft hips. He’s hard, already, has been sporting a disgraceful half chub since probably the start.

It would be embarrassing, except Viktor keeps moving against him, slowly, torturously, and he definitely can feel it.

“This is not a lap dance,” Yuuri breathes, and Viktor honest to god _giggles_ , directly into his ear.

He grinds against his erection harder, if possible, and just as Yuuri moans, he says “No one has to know.”

Something pokes his abs, and _oh_ , Viktor is hard too. His shorts are really tight, and the shape of his cock is clearly visible, straining the leather. Yuuri’s mouth waters.

Viktor makes a jerky movement against him, and clutches harder on his neck. Yuuri is strung tight as a violin, trying not to break the imaginary rules he made up in his head. Rules that vanish into thin air as Viktor breathily begs “Touch me.”

Yuuri finally, finally does what he’s been waiting to do since what seems like an eternity.

He digs his fingers into the soft meat of Viktor’s hips, scratches his nails on his back, presses their bodies even closer.

The spell is broken.

Viktor’s hand flies to his crotch, a question in his eyes. Yuuri nods feverishly, and fingers fight with his zipper, reach into his boxers to pull his cock free.

When Yuuri makes to do the same, Viktor’s breath itches. He’s not wearing underwear. Oh god.

“I’ve never done this before,” Yuuri admits, quietly, and Viktor just smiles devastatingly.

“Me, too,” he says, taking both of their dicks in hand “Not with a client.”

Yuuri gasps, the hot flesh of Viktor’s cock against his making him forget everything else.

“Yuuri,” he hears Viktor call, and he raises his gaze only to be met with a feverish stare. “Kiss me?”

Yuuri does, and Viktor chooses that moment to start moving his hand. The friction is a little too much, which is both exciting and maddening. Yuuri has never been harder in his life.

He cups Viktor’s face with a hand as they share open mouthed, filthy kisses, and the other goes to join the one that’s now stripping both of their dicks urgently.

They share their breaths, their hips rolling in tandem, fingers interlocked around their shafts as they move without finesse.

Yuuri caresses Viktor’s sharp jawline, presses his index against his pulse. He wants to suck Viktor’s cock. He wants to spread his legs and eat him out with the stupid leather shorts still on. He wants to flick his tongue against his uncovered nipples till they ache.

He does nothing of the sort. But he wraps his fingers around Viktor’s braid, and _pulls_. Viktor mewls, his hips stutter. “Again,” he begs, unashamedly “Yuuri, _ah_ , Yuuri,” Viktor grips their cocks tightly, almost to the point of pain. It’s delicious.

He never stops moving, not even after he’s spilled all over their hands with a cry. He just presses kisses to his mouth and arches his back, concentrates all his attention on making him come, rubbing his ass on his thighs, undulating along to Yuuri’s tempo. “Please, Yuuri,” he moans, and Yuuri tugs on his hair one last time and comes, his shout muffled by Viktor’s tongue.

Viktor falls to his knees and takes his time cleaning him with teasing licks, nuzzling the hand that Yuuri puts on his head and giggling when Yuuri curses because he’s too sensitive. “I like you,” he mumbles with his lips parted around the head of his soft dick, and Yuuri blushes stupidly.

“I like you, too,” he confesses, and Viktor squeals and leaves butterfly kisses on his stomach.

Minutes later find them pressed against each other, slumped all over the couch. Viktor is curled on Yuuri’s chest like a cat. He’s scratching his short nails against his shirt, over his nipples, almost distractedly.

Yuuri has a stupid smile plastered on his face, but he doesn’t feel bad about it because he’s still tipsy and Viktor has a matching one, too.

They’ll have to make themselves presentable and move, eventually. Yuuri will have to catch a taxi to the hotel. Phichit will be asleep in the next room, and they’ll meet up for breakfast and Yuuri will tell him that he’s fallen in love, probably. That he wants to have Viktor’s babies and he’ll definitely steal him from Russia and claim him as his.

“Next time,” Viktor promises, tapping his ass with a finger, a terribly enticing glint in his eyes “We’ll make use of this heart shaped hole.”

Yuuri groans and buries his nose into Viktor’s neck.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 **To: Phichit (05:07)**  
_phiicht  
do u think i make enuogh money to affford being a sugar daddy_

His phone starts ringing immediately.

**Author's Note:**

> Do I, perhaps, have a grudge against badly made zombie films? Funny of you to ask! Yes, yes I do. I'm a very traditionalist zombie lover. Sue me.  
> Please note, Yuuri is very very much preoccupied with a handful of Russian stripper, he owns up to every typo he's made. The not so mysteryous caller is Phichit, who just wants to tell Yuuri that yes, he definitely makes enough money to become Viktor's sugar daddy. It is recommended that he does, in fact. Do it, Yuuri, for the love of God.  
> Want to know how it'll all play out in the end?? [Have some worldbuilding/shitposting](http://yuriplisetsk.tumblr.com/post/164836354192/some-worldbuilding-for-praying-for-love-in-a) me and my artist did. Seriously, take this, we went reeeally wild with the possibilities. There's some Chris, some future strip club in Hasetsu, and some Georgi almost-porn hidden in there, you can't _possibly_ pass this up. (winks with both eyes)
> 
> So this was my entry for the YOI Shit Bang 2017!!! I've wanted to write stripper!Viktor since the start and this seemed to be the best occasion, heh.  
> [My amazing artist did two marvelous pieces for this, go give them some love!!!](https://damnkatsufan.tumblr.com/post/164836420732/my-other-entry-for-the-2017-yoi-shit-bang-it)  
> We've both gone through some pretty hard times this August, but he was absolutely marvelous and did his best despite everything. That's also why I want to dedicate this fic to him. Keep fighting!!! 
> 
> Comments and kudos keep me alive more than coffee does, and that's really saying something. Pretty please with a cherry on top?  
> As usual, find me on [tumblr](http://yuriplisetsk.tumblr.com) to see all your wildest dreams/prompts fulfilled! Albeit very slowly, I admit. Cough.  
> 


End file.
